


Wheel of Westeros Book Two: Rise of Daenerys Part Five

by Thrafrau (annmcbee)



Series: Wheel of Westeros [26]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Episode: s05e04 Sons of the Harpy, Episode: s05e08 Hardhome, Episode: s05e09 The Dance of Dragons, Episode: s07e07 The Dragon and the Wolf, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annmcbee/pseuds/Thrafrau
Summary: Griff meets Daenerys face to face, and wounds are healed. Amidst happy occasions in her court, Dany must deal with a betrayal by her cupbearers, and Selmy tells her some bad news. Stannis treats with Dany, and faces the hardest sacrifice of his life. Dany considers the possibilities for her allegiance with Jon Snow. (Small tribute here to the films of Mike Nichols, and quite a bit of theft from the series.)
Relationships: Barristan Selmy & Daenerys Targaryen, Barristan Selmy/Original Female Character(s), Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen, Shireen Baratheon & Daenerys Targaryen, Shireen Baratheon & Stannis Baratheon, Victarion Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen, Young Griff/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Wheel of Westeros [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1458574
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	Wheel of Westeros Book Two: Rise of Daenerys Part Five

**_The Wheel of Westeros_ **

**Book Two: Rise of Daenerys Part Five**

_Disclaimer:_

_This fan fiction is meant neither to be a continuation of George R. R. Martin’s_ A Song of Ice and Fire _series, nor a revision of seasons 6-8 of the HBO series,_ Game of Thrones _. It is meant to stand alone, independent of those works, and can be read alone by those who have not seen the TV series or read the books. Having said that, this work will borrow from not only_ Game of Thrones _and_ A Song of Ice and Fire, _but from multiple other works of film, television, music and literature. Please see footnotes for references, and feel free to point out any I’ve forgotten._

Chapter 1: Griff

“I don’t bloody believe it!” Euron Greyjoy exclaimed. The Lord of Pyke had expressed little to no interest in Griff’s argument with Cersei Lannister, after negotiations in the Dragon Pit had changed over from their initial civility. Griff was winning the argument, in which Cersei Lannister was being incredibly predictable. The prince had rehearsed exactly what to say to the “pretender” accusation – but he would not need to make that speech now, for something decidedly unpredictable was occurring.

As the huge black object flew closer, all present stood up to get a look: Griff and Connington, Arianne, Edmure Tully and Petyr Baelish, Euron and his warlocks, even the little queen Myrcella and the disgraced “maester” Qyburn. When Griff realized it was a dragon: black as night and near as big as the Dragon Pit itself, he clutched Arianne’s hand tightly. Drogon the black circled twice above the Pit, his enormous wings casting shadows that covered them all. The posted Lannister soldiers put hands on their sword hilts uselessly, their knees buckling with fear. Griff’s Dornish guard took hold of their spears, but he signaled them to stand down. Finally, Drogon lighted upon a broken section of the stands with a thunderous crunch, raising clouds of dust. He pivoted, bringing one mighty wing down to the floor of the pit. A tiny black figure crawled forth from between his ruby spines, and slid down the wing, landing on her feet.

Griff’s heart pounded so hard and fast he could feel it in his teeth. Arianne put her arm through his and held her body against him. He wondered stupidly what his hair looked like. Most likely it was standing out in every direction from his head, for there was little protection from the wind in the Pit. The figure, who could only be Daenerys Targaryen, walked in the direction of the gathering in full armor: all silver steel and black mail, a helmet covering her face that gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight. Qyburn composed himself and ran up to meet her, asking _who goes there?_

“This be Daenerys Targaryen, you twat,” Euron said. “The dragon queen – who else!”

Dany removed her helm then, and Griff’s mouth went dry when he saw the face of his aunt and formerly-betrothed for the first time in his life.

“I am she,” Dany said. “Here to lend my support to my nephew and the rightful prince of this country, Aegon of House Targaryen.”

Her voice was lower than Griff had imagined it, but the sound of it saying his name released a box of fluttering doves in his gut. She was narrow and very short – Griff stood a head-and-a-half taller at least – but through the armor, he couldn’t tell much else of her body. Her skin was creamy white with splotches of pink on the cheeks. Her lips were delightfully pink and full, and there was an adorable touch of squareness in her little chin. There was something dragon-like in the shape of her face, Griff noted, as stunningly beautiful as she was. Her silver hair was cropped shoulder-length, and Griff lost a breath in observing that it stood out in all directions from her head, partly textured by sweat and the shape of her helm. She looked wild and lush, and a little savage. When her shining purple eyes met Griff’s, he stopped himself from looking away, and closed his mouth tight against his astonishment.

“I’m sorry, my…er, _your grace_. As you’ve arrived unexpected I must insist you disarm before joining us,” Qyburn was saying.

“I am unarmed,” said Dany.

Qyburn cleared his throat and nodded toward the massive black dragon still perched in the stands. Dany’s mouth formed an O. She turned to Drogon and said the word, _sōves,_ at which Drogon flapped his wings and flew away, filling the Pit, and everyone’s faces, with brown puffs of dust. Griff saw Cersei and Myrcella had both gone pale and utterly speechless. All those standing had stumbled back to their seats, but were still open-mouthed with awe – especially Lord Tully, who seemed in that moment to be questioning everything he’d ever known. Arianne was trembling in her chair, and Griff gave her arm a gentle squeeze to comfort her, but he never took his eyes from Dany. She stood before Jon Connington and stared at him, those jewels for eyes widened, until he rose and gave her his seat.

“Well,” Qyburn said. “The players may have changed, but the game is still the same and the name of the game is peaceful negotiations[1]. Would you care to hear our leaders’ demands, princess Daenerys?”

“It is _queen_ Daenerys, maester. I am Queen of Mereen, Volantis and the Free Cities. And your guests need not repeat themselves.”

“So do you support your nephew’s claim to the Iron Throne?” Euron Greyjoy said, “Even against your own?”

Dany cut her eyes at the Ironborn king. “I take it you are Euron Greyjoy – slaver and usurper, enemy of myself, my prince, and the people of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“You wound me, my queen! We’ve hardly had a chance to become acquainted!”

Griff found his voice. “The Queen of the Free Cities is well-acquainted with you and your vile operation. She will never accept slavery in this land – and neither will I.”

“Then we are at an impasse, young prince – _but you and I need not be_ , your radiance,” Euron turned back to Dany. “Now that I see you are even more lovely than I imagined in my wildest dreams, and your dragon more terrifying, I can see you are not to be resisted. And you have two other dragons, is that right?”

“And they are under my control…for the most part,” Dany said.

Euron paused for a moment before announcing to the entire gathering, “I’m altering my demands. Marry me, Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons and Breaker of Chains, and I will end trading in slaves forthwith. You and I can rule these kingdoms together… all you need do, is abandoned young Griff and take his claim as your own.”

That was all Griff could stand. He rose and drew his sword, and as he took a step toward Greyjoy he heard the combined sounds of Arianne’s gasp and twenty Lannister swords ringing their way out of their sheaths.

Qyburn rose and held up his hands. “Your grace, you will remember that sword play is strictly forbidden at these negotiations!”

“How dare you!” Cersei Lannister suddenly screeched before Griff could say a word. She stomped toward Euron, teeth bared. “You vowed allegiance to me and my daughter. You swore your hand!”

“Mother…please sit down!” Myrcella said.

“Guards – kill him. Kill him now for a traitor!”

Euron did not show the slightest fear while the Lannister soldiers looked at Queen Myrcella, not knowing what to do. Myrcella rose and shouted. “Sit down, Mother. Or leave.”

Cersei glared at Euron and then at Daenerys, who glowered back. Slowly, she made her way back to her seat, her face red and looking suddenly much older.

Myrcella spoke eloquently, though at intervals, spasms wracked her, pulling her head to her shoulder at one side. “I think it best, my lords and ladies, if we adjourn these negotiations until the following day, that we may collect our bearings if the face of this…change in circumstance. Princess Daenerys, we…know that you have traveled far, and hope you may join us again tomorrow, once you take some rest and… refresh yourself. I will promise you safety, as I have prince Aegon, while these discussions continue – if you will promise the same for myself and the capital.”

“Of course, your grace. I mean no harm to you or your city at this time. My dragon has other plans for supper this evening,” said Dany with a wry smile. “As for tomorrow, I have demands of my own to make.”

As the parties slowly departed, Arianne and Griff paused before leaving, as Dany lingered within the Pit. She had slid off her gloves and now paced around the perimeter, looking wistfully at the ruins. She bent to pick up some small object she had kicked with her foot. A sad look came to her face as she examined it. 

“Will her dragon not return to her now? What will she do?” Arianne asked.

Dany looked over at them, her face solemn. She had received Griff’s letter about her secret marriage, but before that, she had written Griff asking if he was all right and wondering why she hadn’t heard from him. Their relationship was already rocky, turbulent with misunderstanding, and they hadn’t even laid eyes on each other for more than a few minutes. Griff had never wanted it to be that way.

“Go with Connington and Duck, love,” Griff said. “I must speak with her.”

“Kiss me first, and be careful.”

Griff kissed her sweetly, but not indecently, feeling Dany’s amethyst eyes upon them. “There’s no reason to be afraid,” he said, though whether to Arianne or to himself it wasn’t clear. He walked over to Daenerys, sweat dripping down his back, his heart still thrumming in his ears. When he stood before her, he found he couldn’t think of what to say. He only looked at her, letting the hurt of her abandonment and betrayal shape his expression. The object she was fondling in her hands, he saw, was a small narrow jawbone.

“This place was the beginning of the end for our family,” Dany said. “A dragon is not a slave.” She stepped closer to Griff, very slowly. “They were terrifying. They filled people with wonder and awe, and we locked them in here. They wasted away. They grew small, and we grew small as well…”

She held the bone out to Griff silently, and he took it. It was feather-light, with needle sharp teeth embedded in it, and he realized it had once been part of a dragon. The thought filled him with sorrow. “We weren’t extraordinary without them,” he said. “We were just like everybody else.”

“ _I am not like everyone else,_ I assure you, and our family hasn’t seen its end, because you’re here.[2] Do you know how happy that makes me?”

“You hurt me.” Griff didn’t know what else he could say. His cheeks burned.

“I didn’t want that. I never meant it…but the marriage to Victarion was necessary.”

“I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why you and I aren’t already married. I don’t understand why you have to remain there. _This_ is your home. _I_ am your family. Why did you forsake us?” Griff felt himself beginning to cry, but stifled it.

“I have not forsaken you, and I never will. My marriage is temporary. As soon as my children are ready, I will leave them with Victarion and with my other generals.”

“Your children…” Griff shook his head. “Your _people_ are here, Dany. They need you. I need you!”

“You need my dragons, you mean.”

“If we were wed, they would be _our dragons_ , would they not? I wanted us to be a family. But how can I trust you?” _How do I know you won’t consider me temporary as well?_

“Do you really mean you will not marry me now? Do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, _I love you_![3]” Griff felt foolish – he didn’t even know her. “I can’t wait any longer, Dany.”

“Then marry the princess Arianne – how could I disapprove? I need to reconcile with Dorne, obviously.”

“Dany, Dorne expects no reconciliation for Quentyn – that was none of your doing. They cry out for me to avenge my mother. But how can I defeat Cersei when she has Euron?”

“You can’t want me to marry Euron…”

“ _I want you to burn Euron!_ ” Griff’s voice was raised too much, he knew. _In through the nose, out through the mouth._

“Euron isn’t the only enemy we need to destroy,” Dany said, stepping very close to him. She smelled like the sea. “My children are so close now to ruling themselves, don’t you see? And you and I are so close to the way we are going to change this world!”

Griff couldn’t understand her, and he felt like an idiot. _Rule themselves? Change the world?_ He shook his head again, not knowing how to respond. Suddenly the shadow of Drogon flying above cast them both in darkness. Dany looked up to him and smiled.

“Lannister, Greyjoy, Baratheon, Targaryen – they’re all just spokes on a wheel,” she said. This one’s on top and that one’s on top and on and on it spins, crushing those on the ground.”

 _You forgot Stark and Arryn and Martell._ “It’s a beautiful dream, Dany. You’re not the first person who’s dreamt it, but does it have to be _you_ who stops the wheel?” Griff watched Drogon circle lower and lower, emitting an ear-splitting roar as he prepared to land.

“I’m not going to stop the wheel, sweetling. I’m going to _break_ the wheel.”[4]

Drogon landed some feet away from them, and seemed to stare at Griff with his blood-red eyes. Dany turned to Griff and took his hand.

“Ride with me,” she said. “See from where I see. See how small the Iron Throne seems when you can see a whole city at one glance.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. For nearly an hour, Dany took Griff to the sky on Drogon’s back. He clutched her tightly around the middle as they flew over King’s Landing, the lights from windows like stars in a golden sky. The Kingswood looked like a basket of multicolored fruit, and the lands along the Rose Road were like a velvety gold-green blanket. They flew out over the shining blue sea, and there was a moment where Griff thought she was kidnapping him and taking him to Pentos. Ilyrio Mopatis had died, and she was staying at his mansion – the earliest place Griff remembered. In that moment, he didn’t even care if she stole him away. He felt much like that little boy who had played in that manse, carefree and ignorant of the future. All he knew was that dragon, the princess in black mail on its back, and the open skies.

Chapter 2: Dany

Dany dressed simply for her audiences in Ilyrio’s luxurious salon. The black jeweled gown that hugged her curves, the sleeves embellished with sewn-in darts that resembled dragon spines, was the latest mourning dress crafted by Shyrli, who was getting better and better at her art. Stannis Baratheon had near half of his men to the flux, and Dany’s outfit was meant to honor them, whoever they were, who had crossed the sea to aid her in her war against slavery. The soft silk and rattling beads of dragonglass, wrapped around her head and around her neck under her chin, looked less ostentatious than her usual headdress, and more like a funereal veil.

The day had begun with the happy event of anointing Lotho, son of Maebi and the late Khal Savo, as her third Dothraki Ko. In truth, Dany considered all her soldiers and generals her Kos, but the Dothraki had given up so many of their traditions and customs to comply with her vision. It was nice to replace the lost Jhogo with a traditional ceremony, featuring a giant pig roasted deep in the ground overnight, and the customary prayers to the Great Stallion, followed by the scarification that would mark fifteen-year-old Lotho as a true commander of the khalasar. Aggo performed the scarring – just a ring around the arm near the elbow – with the heated tip of his arakh, and Maebi applied the squid ink to turn the skin blackish-blue. Lotho was a strong, handsome young man with cinnamon brown eyes and golden skin – the only child who remained to Maebi after Savo was killed along with his two brothers who were adults when the transition had taken place. Lotho had been only an infant then, and had survived because a slave in the new khal’s employ had hidden him away until it was safe. To finalize his anointment, Lotho received a kiss of blessing from Dany on both cheeks. Only then did the tough exterior he had maintained through his inking break a bit – his cheeks flushed, and he flashed a hint of an awkward smile.

It was an exciting day indeed for the Dothraki priestess, who had become like a mother to Dany. That evening, she would wed Ser Barristan Selmy, who had returned after being dismissed by Griff. Seeing him run into Maebi’s arms the day he arrived, spinning her around, kissing her and beaming, had brought tears to Dany’s eyes. She hadn’t forgiven herself for failing to see what sending Selmy away meant to them. Shyrli had made Maebi a beautiful gown of yellow and rose silk adorned with gold thread, and a gold circlet for her head embedded with opals. Dany couldn’t wait to see her in it. They would marry in the Westerosi fashion for the most part, though they would also jump over a line of fire, as Rh’llor would have it, and there would be a party with gifts and sacrifices of goats and lambs to the Stallion. If all went well, no one would be killed (making it a dull affair by Dothraki standards), but that depended on how well the Unsullied and the Fiery Hand could keep order. With Freefolk warriors in the mix, it was hard telling what might happen.

For now, Dany had audience duty, but she had dismissed all but her small council (Maebi, Missandei, Ser Jorah, Mother Mole, Selmy, Marwyn and Tyrion) and her war council (Victarion, Grey Worm, Venny of the Fiery Hand, Ozzy of the Freefolk, Rakharo, Aggo and now Lotho). Rhia, Ilyrio’s former housekeeper who was assisting a very pregnant Jhiqui, reported that little Mezzara still hadn’t admitted which of the other young cupbearers had been her partner in informing on Dany. Aggo had followed a Ghiscari spy as he peered into a hole in the wall that enclosed Ilyrio’s grand garden. Before he cut the man’s throat, he peeked into the hole and saw the little hostage Mezzara and another of Dany’s cupbearers, a boy. It was concluded that they had been delivering information to harpy eggs working for Mellario of Norvos in exchange for sexy pictures, one of which Mezzara held in her hand when Aggo nabbed her. It was a charcoal sketch of a huge-breasted woman sitting on a skinny man’s face. Dany would have died laughing if she hadn’t been so angry. Dany had addressed the male cupbearers herself: Azzak, Bhakaz, Draqaz, Grazhar and Miklaz.

“The other cupbearer with young Mezzara climbed the wall with the dexterity of Lord Grey Worm. He was seen but not identified entering the window of the cupbearers’ quarters moments later,” she had said, pacing in front of them in one of her cruelest-looking gowns, the black spikes of her headdress gleaming in the light of the braziers. “So who was it? Mezzara, a nervous young girl, will surely crack under the strain of interrogation. Therefore, if the guilty party in this room wishes to admit his indiscretion, he will not only lessen his chances of being roasted like a leg of lamb, but he will save this company of cupbearers what I assure you will be pain, anguish and humiliation beyond the endurance of man.”

No one had spoken. Dany crossed her arms. “I take it that honor and trustworthiness are traits not to be found among any of you little ones…well. As of now, the pool is closed to all boy cupbearers.[5] You will not join the feasts, but will have your meals in your chambers. You will take twice as many lessons as usual, and must go to bed at sunset every night. And no desserts – no cakes, tarts or sweets, until this matter is resolved.”

It wasn’t pain and anguish beyond the endurance of man, certainly, but the boys groaned and whined loudly anyway. “Let this be a lesson to you…and if you want to look at naked girls, you might just ask next time. I and the Archmaester have plenty such books.”

Rhia reported that Mezzara was on the verge of talking. When she smelled the wedding cake through the windows and couldn’t have any, they’d have their snitch. Dany thanked Rhia and dismissed her. When she was gone, Rakharo made disapproving noises in his throat and stared pointedly at Dany.

“Speak your mind, blood of my blood,” Dany said to him. “I suppose you also find I am too lenient with the cupbearers.”

“It is not that Khaleesi. I understand you don’t want to shed the blood of the little ones, but…this Rhia of the magister’s,” said Rakharo almost under his breath. “Have you not noticed?”

“What about her?”

“Not her, Khaleesi. This Rhia is a _him_.”

Dany knew what he was getting at, and others had noticed that Rhia had stubble on her face and rather large hands too, but she didn’t see why it mattered. “What about that? She has given me no reason to question her work.”

“But she… _he_ is being false.”

“For the last time, all of you, stop looking beneath the tunics of others, will you? I don’t want you doing it with the Unsullied, and I don’t want it with my housekeepers. I want you to forget about this. We have more important concerns.”

“As you wish, Khaleesi.”

“And you, husband? Have you something to say on the matter? Your face would seem to suggest as much.” Victarion had been sneering at her. He was particularly sullen and moody since it was revealed that Asha and Theon Greyjoy had put themselves in Dany’s employ.

“It is nothing, my queen,” he said. “I await your orders, that’s all.”

That was suspicious…Victarion never passed up an opportunity to make his disapproval known. “These ships carrying slaves from Westeros. You’ve seen where they make berth…tell the council what you have learned, my love, that we may plan our next course of action.”

Euron Greyjoy’s ships carried human cargo from Westeros to only two ports accessible from the Free Cities: a strange lonely port between the Orange Shore and Volantis where a particularly foul fork of the Rhoyne emptied into the sea, and a fog-draped Ibben port east of the Axe in the Shivering Sea walking distance from the forest of Qohor. Aggo and Ozzy had men tracking the progress of the poor souls unloaded from those ships, and a plan to apprehend those still on their way to some destination east. Other ships were seen sailing toward Dragon Bay (formerly Slaver’s Bay), where Princess Asha fought beside Daario Naharis and Ben Plumm against the Harpy and the Tourmaline Brotherhood. Victarion needed to sail there and make peace with Asha and Theon, as well as find out where these Westerosi slaves were headed, when slavery had all but been abolished. That was a drawback to abolition: that it didn’t end slavery entirely, but made those slavers who remained the most foul and terrifying creatures of all, and their slaves subject to horrors Dany didn’t wish to name. Victarion agreed to obey, but he was clearly unhappy. Then again, what was new? Dany hoped reuniting with his niece would brighten his spirits, but she didn’t count on it.

With that, the war council was dismissed, and Dany presented the small council with the contents of the latest letter from Jon Snow, the self-proclaimed King in the North:

_Dear Queen Daenerys,_

_The North has received your shipment of labor, food, gold and materials including the Myrish glass for use in constructing agricultural greenhouses. Many thanks for your generous and timely contribution to our cause. Work on the wall of fire has begun full force, and greenhouses have been raised all over the Neck, where the land has yet to freeze completely. On behalf of House Reed, who is overseeing this process, I offer congratulations for a wise and thoughtful approach to the problem of food scarcity that our people currently face. You will note I have made sure that those who benefit are aware from whence these gifts came and that your support has been unflinching in these difficult times. I was happily surprised to see that many of the workers you sent were of my own people: Freefolk and men of the Night’s Watch wrongfully seized in a deal with the Skagosi by men of low character, who have now been dispensed with._

_I have successfully retreated most all of my people from the North along with the Freefolk using the captured wights as evidence of the urgency. However, I must unfortunately report that I have lost the support of most Northern houses and certain factions of the Freefolk who disagree with the established truce. My sister, Sansa of Houses Arryn and Stark, has been crowned Queen in the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale by members of the Red Brotherhood led by her mother. All houses but Glover, Reed and Mormont have declared for Sansa, and I may not be able to hold my post in Winterfell much longer. I’m afraid that my dealings with you, and with your nephew Aegon, have also put me in a bad light with my countrymen, although I do not regret these steps, as they were meant to protect the North, and I believe they will. I am currently sheltered at Greywater Watch, as I await the birth of my firstborn child. Once the safety of my wife and child is assured, I will ride to the Wall that I might continue to oversee construction. Whether I am able to continue our communication depends upon Sansa’s discretion, but I assure you that my promise is intact. Bring your fire to the North, and I will bring my sword to your war against slavers, but I may not have as many with me as I intended._

_I ride to the Wall in three months’ time, at the first full moon following the arrival of my firstborn. We have procured a small amount of wildfire in order to light it sufficiently, I believe. Should all go well, it will be a sight to behold, and buy our people enough time in evading the Others. If not, and if I perish in these coming months, you and your dragons are the world’s last hope._

_Sincerely,_

_Jon Snow, Bastard King_

“Bastard King!” Lord Tyrion exclaimed. “What a marvelous title.”

Dany frowned. “I hate that title. I’d like to call him a name that doesn’t contain ‘bastard’.”

“Some call him the Wolf King, I’ve heard,” Ser Barristan said.

“I don’t like ‘king’ much either.”

“The Prince of Winterfell?” Tyrion offered. “The White Wolf?”

Dany nearly spat out the wine she had been slowly sipping. The dreams she’d been having about a white wolf, who frolicked with her in a field of long grass before leading her to the most peaceful little hovel near the sea, still graced her sleep at night. Dany had told Missandei all about them. She caught her young advisor’s wide eyes now, and asked, “Why would they call him the ‘white wolf’?”

“Probably because of his white wolf,” Tyrion said, taking a drink of wine himself. He had grown a beard and it suited him, Dany thought. “The Stark children were all gifted direwolf pups as children. Jon’s was an albino – named Ghost as I recall.”

“ _Ghost_ …” Dany shivered. “Well what would he prefer to be called then? You knew him.”

“Very briefly,” Tyrion said. “He was only a boy, but from what I do know of him, I’d say Jon Snow would prefer to be called…Jon Snow.”

“Jon Snow it is then,” said Dany. “And what of this business with his sister? You were here husband at one time…do you think her armies will support me?”

“The Red Brotherhood are followers of Rh’llor, so you have that in your favor, but it’s the part about her mother I don’t quite understand.”

“Why is that?”

“Because Catelyn Stark is dead.”

Tyrion explained that the Stark matriarch had been killed along with her son at the infamous Red Wedding, so how she could have crowned anyone was beyond comprehension. Tyrion agreed to contact Sansa on Dany’s behalf, to find out what in Seven Hells was going on and whether she would offer anything in exchange for help with the Others. Dany didn’t think Jon Snow would be near as effective all by himself – she needed many swords, not just one. Still, Dany regretted that her correspondence with Snow might end. Was his wolf the wolf she had seen in her dreams? How could she stop writing him until she knew for sure?

She dismissed the council then, but Ser Barristan remained behind.

“Shouldn’t you get a bit of rest before this evening, Ser?” Dany could barely contain her excitement in talking about the wedding. Even now, great bonfires were being built, and clanging sounds could be heard from the kitchen as the feast was being prepared.

“I will, your grace,” Ser Barristan said smiling. Dany offered him some more wine, but he refused. “I just wanted a moment to speak with you, as I imagine it won’t be easy to do so during the celebration.”

The old knight made her feel like a little girl, and so she squirmed in her seat excitedly and gave her hands two fast claps. “I’m so very thrilled! Are you not thrilled?”

Barristan smiled warmly and patted your hand. “Delighted of course, your grace.”

Suddenly he seemed gloomy. Dany slumped. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“It’s just…it’s Aegon. Griff. I’m told you took him riding on Drogon with you.”

“I did, to appease him. He seemed so hurt and confused. I didn’t think it would do any harm…”

“No of course not, your grace…”

“Is this about what we learned about Ilyrio? Do you think something is amiss?” Since she had returned from Westeros, Irri and Dontre the bookkeeper reported discovering that, not long before Dany and her brother Viserys had been housed in Ilyrio’s manse, young Griff had been housed at the same before being taken into custody by Lord Connington. Dany couldn’t wrap her head around the connection, until Tyrion had said the name: Varys.

Ser Barristan sighed. “I believe he is Rhaegar’s son, and I know how badly you want that to be the truth…”

It was true. Even though it meant her claim to the throne was threatened, that didn’t outweigh the joy of knowing she wasn’t alone anymore. (Stannis threatened both claims anyway, if one believed in right of conquest.) Furthermore, since seeing him, Dany had gone to sleep every night thinking of his hands around her waist, imagining her pillow was his shoulder. He was beautiful: tall and graceful with warm golden skin and eyes like lilac blossoms. He had invited her to stay with him in his camp in the Kingswood as a guest, which was a good sign, though Dany had chosen to lodge at her ship _Hazzea_ instead. She had felt they left each other on good terms, especially since she repelled Euron’s creatures from Blackwater Bay before departing, but Barristan’s look had her worried.

“What then? Did you learn something untoward?”

“You remember why I didn’t reveal my identity when I first came into your service. I had no such opportunity with Griff, but what I was looking for in you, I found in the prince…”

 _No,_ Dany thought. _This is spite. Spite because he sent you away…_

“The _taint_ , your grace…”

Dany looked down at the sleeve of her gown and said nothing.

“I should go now and rest as you suggested,” Ser Barristan. “I’m very sorry.”

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder before leaving, and when he was gone, Dany sighed heavily and walked to the window. The pool below was so quiet. Without the boys, there was barely a splash or a scream to be heard.

Chapter 3: Stannis

_No._

Stannis stared at the pyre as it steadily formed, the gaps in the logs being filled with straw, tallow and dried pine branches with brown needles. The center pole, to which his daughter would be tied, was pocked with knots that dripped fragrant sap. He locked his eyes on that pole, fixing them as with the pine pitch itself, and the voice persisted like a gnat in his ear.

_No._

It was not Davos, for Stannis’s former hand had left the day before with Daenerys Targaryen, traveling with her back to the dead magister’s manse. By the time he collected the intelligence Stannis required, Shireen would be dead, and the Onion Knight would have no say in the matter. Stannis expected he would want to turn around and go straight back to the Dragon Queen, but he would not have that choice.

Daenerys had brought with her a parade of individuals whose names all began with M, including healers from four different faiths: the red priest Moquorro, the Wildling witch Mother Mole, archmaester Marwyn of the citadel, a Dothraki medicine woman called Maebi, and a young herald by the name of Missandei. Davos had found the alliteration rather amusing, but Stannis hadn’t even taken note of it at the time. He hadn’t left his tent for many days, avoiding the flux as well as the sight of his daughter, his only child, who would soon be gone. The Dragon Queen had gone out among Stannis’s men before summoning him, needing no permission, he supposed. She had brought one dragon, and the Fiery Hand of Volantis with her in order to deliver the wagons full of food, wine, and medicine, distributing them quietly as Stannis studied map after map of Essos and Southyros alone in his tent.

_No._

His wife had not yet appeared. By now, she would have finished dressing their daughter in her red velvet gown, and braiding her hair in the Florent fashion, with two knots like the ears of a fox. Perhaps Selyse was praying – nevertheless her voice was not the one he heard, screaming.

The last real conversation he’d had with Shireen had been at Castle Black. She had wandered into his cell while he was sorting through bills of lading before leaving for Winterfell the following morning.

 _Are you lonely,_ he had asked her.

 _Just bored_ , she said, though she was clearly lonely as well.

_My father used to tell me that boredom indicates a lack of inner resources._

_Were you bored a lot too?_

Lonely as well. Castle Black was no place for a child, Stannis knew. Criminals, wildlings, war-torn rangers, men who rose from the dead. He remembered thinking they should not have brought her, and as if she’d read his mind, she’d asked, _Are you ashamed of me, father? **[6]**_

_No._

Selyse arrived, red-eyed, as the pyre was completed. All stood in a circle about it, while Sers Corliss Penny and Clayton Suggs went to retrieve Shireen and bring her forth. Melisandre began to recite the prayers, her voice carried by the sudden wind that had kicked up from over the sea. _Hear us now, my lord…to you we offer up this princess, that you may cleanse her with your fire and that your light may lead our way. Accept this token of our faith my lord, and lead us from the darkness_. The wind blew the red woman’s robes, revealing the white legs beneath as she continued. _Show us the way…Lord of Light protect us, for the night is dark and full of terrors!_

_No._

Daenerys had reminded Stannis momentarily of Melisandre. When he and Davos had gone into her tent, they found her seated on an ebony bench, dressed in a close-fitting gown of black samite bedecked with onyx and carnelian. The sides of the gown were open, Stannis noticed, the front and back pieces connected by thin braids of silk. The side hems were lined with red silk wrapped about sharp hooks of some metal. She wore a headdress of agate and black lace with sharp spines of polished wood jutting out from around her skull. Her eyelids and brow were painted with coal and ochre, and her lips were greased blood red. She looked more fearful than desirable, more terrible than beautiful – much like the dragon who rested upon the hill only yards from her tent. The girl Missandei had introduced her as “Mother of Dragons,” “Breaker of Chains” and “Queen of the Mereen, Volantis, and the Free Cities,” as Stannis and Davos bent the knee.

After she bid them rise, the queen said, “You are a brave man, Stannis Baratheon, to sail over the sea and face the woman whose kingdom you helped steal.”

“I acted in loyalty to my blood, it’s true…and got little for the effort, I assure you,” said Stannis.

“Little but Dragonstone – the home of my birth.”

“Griff now has Dragonstone, your grace.”

“And you bent the knee to him as well.”

“My fealty to him is contingent on his marriage to you.”

“That may be complicated, I’m afraid,” she said, Missandei quietly offered them wine. “There is the right of conquest, I suppose – is that not how Robert claimed his legitimacy?”

“That’s one way,” Stannis said, taking a cup of wine out of courtesy. “However in battle for conquest, who among us can hold out against dragons?”

“That’s wise, my lord. Dragons obey no laws of succession.”

“By law, your blood claim is as legitimate as any.”

“By law, men owned slaves in this part of the world for centuries. Let us not waste another breath on the law, my lord. Instead, tell me what you would offer me and why – over supper.”

They departed the tent then, and Stannis saw the queen’s back through a wide opening in her gown, revealing a forest of red, angry scars. They followed some ways behind to supper, which had laid out in a large tent at the center of her camp.

“Who dared give her the lash?” Stannis had asked Davos under his breath.

“Whoever did, I have the sense we will hear nothing more of them in this life,” Davos said.

After a supper of roast duck, sea scallops, pickled beets with goat cheese, spicy coconut soup and pumpkin cake, Daenerys had revealed to them a massive cloth map of the Caverns of Norvos, so large they had to back up several feet to read it. Carrying it, she told them, one can enter the caves and exit at a number of locations around the world. It was with that map, she said, that Stannis would help her defeat the forces behind slavery, and the Lannisters as well. She had repeatedly asked about Shireen. Was she truly cured? Was she certainly no longer contagious? Did they know for sure?

_No._

When Shireen was an infant, a Dornish trader landed on Dragonstone, Stannis had told her. His goods were worthless, with the exception of a wooden doll, on which he’d even sewn a dress in the colors of House Baratheon. No doubt he’d heard of Shireen’s birth and assumed new fathers were easy marks. Stannis could still see, as clear as day, how the princess smiled when he put the doll in her cradle, how she pressed it to her cheek. By the time they burned the doll, it was too late. Stannis was told she would die – or worse – the greyscale would go slow, let the girl grow just enough to know the world before taking it away from her. He was advised to send her to the ruins of Valyria to live out her short life with the Stone Men before the sickness spread through the castle.

“And what did you tell them?” Daenerys had asked.

“I told them to go to hell. I called in every maester in Westeros. Every healer. Every apothecary. I said she does not belong on the other side of the world with the bloody Stone Men. She is the princess Shireen of House Baratheon.”

“And they saved her life…”[7]

 _No_ , the voice persisted.

“No!”

Stannis stepped out from the circle and attacked the foot of the pyre, ripping out branches and wads of straw sticky with tallow and pitch. He began to kick at the criss-crossed logs with all his strength, sending shocks of pain from the bottom of his foot to his knee and hip. Melisandre ran over, her hands that had given him so much pleasure reaching out to stop him. He pushed her to the ground, where she landed on her arse with a thud. If it weren’t for Selyse stepping between them, he might have strangled her then and there.

“If we don’t act, we’ll all sicken and die here, all of us,” Selyse said through tears. “But if we make this sacrifice…”

“I can’t…”

“There’s no other way…she has king’s blood.”[8]

Just then, Suggs and Penny ran into the circle, the men making a path for them that was meant to have been walked by his daughter. Their faces were ashen.

“My lord…the princess. She’s gone!” Penny said frantically.

“What do you mean gone?” Stannis asked.

“She wasn’t in her tent, and the fool is gone as well!”

Selyse looked up at Stannis with a look in her eyes that said hope, or fear, or desire. She was hard to read, that woman. She put her hands on his arms.

“My lord…” she said, breathless.

“ _What do you mean gone?”_

Chapter 4: Daenerys

Dany wrote her letters in the quiet of her bedchamber while the light still shone in the windows. Princess Shireen was being fitted for a new gown, and she could faintly hear Shyrli’s compliments through the wall. _Such beautiful brown hair you have… so soft, so full._ The first letter Dany wrote was to young Grazhar, as she had promised after she sent him to Braavos to serve at the Temple of Rh’llor. _They will treat you gently or suffer the consequences_ , she had told the tearful boy, _but I cannot allow you to stay here after betraying me_. It was sad, for she had liked Grazhar more than any of the other boys. Shy Grazhar, who wrote down all his dreams in a book. Dany had begun to do the same, keeping track of how many times the frozen heart and the Others appeared in them, and how many times the hovel by the sea and the white wolf. She knew she should write Griff, but she ended up writing Jon Snow instead.

_Dear Jon Snow,_

_It seems as though we are both rulers in the throes of transition, and for that we will always be paid with disloyalty and betrayal. The true test will be the mercy we show in response. It seems to me, in a just world, Sansa would have the right to the North over your very young brother. In an even more just world, however, you would have that right over Sansa._

_My friend, I plan to fight the Others and their army of dead men regardless of whether you give yourself to the fight against these slavers…that you may as well know. You should also know I have agreed not to attack King’s Landing as long as Princess Myrcella supplies you with the wildfire you request. Naturally, I was not believed about the Others, a reaction to which I am sure you too have grown accustomed._

_Euron Greyjoy believed me, and whether that bodes well or ill I cannot say. Will you tell me when you can of your battles with the icthyoid men? I burned a number of them alive on my way out of Blackwater Bay, along with a certain Horn of the Deep, which he claimed would have allowed me to command some giant sea monster somewhere. I have been strongly advised never to accept his gifts, which is why I offered him no deal._

_I am, however, still interested in negotiating with you. What if I told you that I am willing to support your claim if you will support mine – whatever occurs? I do not truly know what sort of man you are, though Lord Stannis has told me you are brave and brutal in battle – and somehow favored by the Old Gods. I know nothing of the Old Gods, but I do know war, and I’ve known good leaders and bad. I believe you’ve shown yourself a king, in nature if not in name._

_Come to Pentos when your wall of fire is lit, and bring your youngest brother Rickon. Let us solidify this allegiance – whatever it entails, with the love your bear your family. In turn, you will have my dragons, and perhaps not just in the war against the dead._

_Sincerely,_

_Daenerys of the House Targaryen, Queen of Mereen, Volantis and the Free Cities, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains._

[1] Nichols, Mike. _Working Girl_ , Twentieth Century Fox, 1988.

[2] Benioff, David and D.B. Weiss. _Game of Thrones_. Season 7, Episode 7: “The Dragon and the Wolf,” HBO 2017.

[3] Zieff, Howard, _Private Benjamin_ , Warner Bros., 1980.

[4] Benioff and Weiss, _Game of Thrones_ , Season 5, Episode 8: “Hardhome,” HBO, 2015.

[5] Nichols, Mike. _Biloxi Blues_ , Rastar Pictures, 1988.

[6] Benioff and Weiss, _Game of Thrones_ , Season 5, Episode 4: “Sons of the Harpy,” HBO, 2015.

[7] Benioff and Weiss, _Game of Thrones_ , Season 5, Episode 4: “Sons of the Harpy,” HBO, 2015.

[8] Benioff and Weiss, _Game of Thrones_ , Season 5, Episode 9: “The Dance of Dragons,” HBO, 2015.

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing in a limited POV style like Martin's, which is a suffocating way to write. I have thought of a lot of neat scenes that don't fit into the POV limits I set for myself, or don't move the story along quickly enough to include in the series. I will write these out if someone requests it. If you like this story, and would like to see a scene that got skipped or glossed over, OR that is in the POV of someone who is not a Stark, Targaryen, Baratheon, Greyjoy, or Lannister, let me know what you'd like to see, and I will make a Wheel of Westeros B-side out of it.


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